Austin struggled into his duck trousers, and Jefferson, whose face was also a little more pallid than usual, glanced at him again.
"You have a beautiful skin," he said. "It's most like a woman's. There's good clean blood in you."
"It's one of my few good points," and Austin's smile suggested comprehension. "I haven't been particularly indulgent in any direction, considering my opportunities, and I'm rather glad of it now. One could fancy that the man who seldom let one slip would be unusually apt to get the promised wages in this country."
He dragged his singlet over his arms, and a little twinkle slowly crept into Jefferson's eyes.
"Well," he said, "you carry your character with you. How long has the restraining influence been at work on you?"
"You are a little outside the mark," and a faint flush showed in Austin's hollow cheeks. "I am, as you know, not a believer in the unnecessary mortification of the flesh, but there's a trace of the artistic temperament, if that's the right name for it, in me, and it's rather apt to make one finickingly dainty."
Jefferson smiled drily. "That doesn't go quite far enough. I've seen men of your kind wallow harder than the rest. Still, whatever kept you from it, you can be thankful now."
Austin went on with his dressing, and then took a little medical treatise out of a drawer. He spent some time turning over it before he looked up.
"There's nothing that quite fits the thing here, and from what the West-coast mailboat men told me, craw-craw must be different," he said. "In the meanwhile, it wouldn't do any harm to soak myself in black coffee."
He was about to go out when Jefferson stopped him. "This is a thing that is better buried, but there's something to be said. From my point of view, and it's that of the average sensible man, I was right; but yours goes higher, and in one way I am glad of it. I just want to tell you I'm satisfied with my partner!"